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Episode 85: Sabotage
Even in an age that sings of peace, war never changes. People fight—some to gain what they don’t have, others to protect what they do.
Person vs. person.
Group vs. group.
Nation vs. nation.
The winner takes everything. The loser loses even more.
Even the peaceful village of Soma, known for growing wheat, met the same fate. They didn’t even get to taste autumn’s golden harvest before becoming refugees, forced to roam the wasteland. In the middle of the chilly plains, they huddled together, sharing body heat to survive the winter. They cheered when the three men they had sent as envoys returned, but their happiness didn’t last long. The men’s faces had no light of hope.
“This village won’t take us either.”
“They don’t have enough food themselves?”
“Isn’t it obvious? They’re also struggling to survive the winter.”
Winter makes people cold-hearted. When autumn’s bounty ends, a cruel time of endurance begins. To survive that cruelty, people can’t afford to be generous. For refugees like them, it basically meant only one thing—death.
“Those bastards… If they were real believers of Althe, they’d at least give us something to eat…”
“May judgment shine upon them…”
“Enough.”
When complaints about the village got louder, a man stepped forward. He wore half-plate armour and was the only one with a weapon.
“They’re just trying to survive too. Can you blame them? The Empire is a mess right now—corrupt officials are running wild.”
“But we have weapons… If we just asked for a little…”
“Don’t do anything reckless. We should be thankful we got out of there alive.”
“Go? Go where? Where else is there to go?”
They looked out over the vast plains. The winter land was dry and lifeless. All that remained was death.
“How about heading south? At least it’s warmer there.”
Just as there were frost giants in the far north, there were lava giants in the far south—the land of fire. There, winter didn’t exist. The village chief shook his head.
“Not a good idea. They say the days are hot but the nights are freezing. A lot of people die from the temperature swings. And…”
“And?”
“They said southern bandits are waiting for this exact time.”
They weren’t the first refugees heading south. Bandits would be waiting to rob them or sell them as slaves.
“Then what do we do? Just sit here and starve to death?”
The refugees were frustrated with the man’s calm attitude. But the village chief felt the same. It was his job to find the best path even in this terrible situation. After thinking for about three minutes, he spoke.
“Let’s go to the far east.”
Everyone was shocked.
“The far east? The cursed land?”
“No one lives there! And you want us to go?” The man explained.
“The village we visited told us something. The Empire is looking for workers in the far east. The governor there is building a town. They’re paying well and have places to sleep. I’m sure they have enough food too. If we contribute, they’ll probably accept us as residents.”
“But going to a place where monsters gather…”
People were hesitant, looking around to see how others reacted.
The man sighed. A moment ago, they were hoping for a foolish plan, yet now they were scared of a promising one.
He asked them, “Then what? are you all planning to die here?”
“Even if we search other villages, it’ll be the same. Unless we steal, we can’t get food. And I won’t become a beast in human skin. I won’t let any of you do that either.”
“In the far east, at least there’s work. They’ll give us money for food and a place to sleep. For us, who might die any day now, isn’t that more than enough?”
No one could argue. There was no better choice. Would they become bandits and betray their faith? Or head into a barren land in search of hope? One way or another, they had to choose the path with even a tiny bit of hope.
Isabella entered Ferda’s office to give a report.
“Reporting in. 30 refugees from a village called White Bridge have arrived.”
White Bridge. A village in the central-western part of the continent, within the Duke of Yurei’s land.
“That’s the third group of refugees from the Yurei territory. How many usable workers?”
“Six families total. 15 able to work, 1 elderly, 14 children.”
“Any specialists?”
“White Bridge was near a quarry. Some of them are stonecutters—they know construction.”
“That’ll be useful. Good. How many more can we take in?”
Isabella flipped through papers before replying.
“We can accept about 300 more.”
“A lot of buildings, huh.”
“Yes. Normally, half would have to live in tents with this many refugees.”
Ferda stood and walked to the balcony. The cold wind rushed in through the open door. Dry, cold air brushed against his face. He could feel the season of death approaching.
‘More and more refugees.’
It was the season when the most refugees arrived—and died. But for the far east, lacking population, it was also an opportunity. He looked down from the balcony. Where only thorny bushes should’ve been, there were now wide plains and buildings. Where forests should’ve stood, homes now stood. He even saw the 30 refugees gathered around a fire.
Officials were handing out relief supplies. Tears of gratitude rolled down their tired faces. Smiles bloomed again. The town had officially reached a population of 300.
‘Just like the town’s name.’
The woman who protects fire—Hestia. It beat every other name Isabella suggested. Already 20 buildings had been built. Public buildings had been turned into shops and inns, forming a small economy. All of it was possible thanks to many lucky factors.
‘Southern support was the biggest.’
When he first heard Halim would support them, he hadn’t expected much. Support often means a single line in a poem, just for show. But when the delegation from Halim arrived, he knew they were serious. Hundreds of workers, a line of construction materials, even elephants. It was on a whole different level from the Pascal Merchant Guild’s help.
‘Isabella said she was afraid of what Halim might ask for in return.’
Isabella, who always handled things calmly, had said that. That showed how powerful the support was. Using southern materials, they quickly built their unique-style buildings. In just two weeks, lodging and trading posts were built, along with 10 more buildings.
‘But the biggest help was still…’
A bundle of huge logs floated in the air. In the centre, a strong man in armour—not fit for a construction site—was visible. He had suddenly appeared, carried ten logs at once, and moved them like it was nothing.
Ferda had no idea who the man was. No one had ever seen under his armour.
After finishing his work, he vanished. Sometimes, he didn’t show up at all. Sometimes, he ran off in the middle of work. Yet, he always worked harder than anyone and never asked for more money.
‘A duty of the strong… maybe?’
He helped the weak. People even praised him for his knightly spirit—even in physical labour.
‘But it’s probably just to earn a noble title.’
Ferda didn’t believe in pure intentions. He was prepared to offer a reward equal to the value of the work.
“Anything unusual?”
“One thing. Not a big issue yet, but…”
“What is it?”
“There’s a delay in food and monster supply. About four days.”
Four days. Given the poor roads and limited transport, it might seem small. But to Ferda, it was serious.
He had asked Stefan to supply everything as a top priority. A four-day delay meant something had gone wrong with the deal.
‘Stefan’.
A clever merchant. Good at calculating, decent plans. But that’s all. He was too passive, too willing to compromise. That personality was now a problem.
‘Should I abandon him?’
Ferda didn’t care much. He could just return Stefan’s investments and move on. He had Halim now.
‘It’s easy to cut him off.’ As Ferda was thinking—
Knock knock.
“Lord Ferda.”
It was Ruri.
“Stefan Pascal requests an audience.”
Speak of the devil.
“Let him in.”
A man walked in—but he didn’t look like the Stefan Ferda knew. He used to look wealthy and full. Now, he looked like a starving refugee.
Something had happened.
“It’s been a while since the exhibition, my lord.”
Ferda stayed calm.
“We were just talking about you.”
“The delay in supply, right? Yes, I apologize. And…”
He paused, then forced himself to speak.
“I think it’s best… if we end the partnership between Pascal Trading Company and you.”
He wanted to cancel the contract.
Ferda was confused. He had thought about cancelling, but Stefan should’ve fought to keep it.
“Why?”
“I don’t think I can handle this anymore.”
“What is it you can’t handle?”
“What I’m capable of… and what I have.”
“My expectations haven’t changed. Everything is still the same.”
“What changed is your heart.”
Stefan couldn’t answer.
Ferda leaned forward.
“I’ll cancel if your reasons make sense. So tell me—what happened?”
Stefan finally spoke.
He told him everything. Dinner with his father. Fighting with his brother over Halim. Everything he lost because of it. Only now did Ferda learn the full story.
“Murch got mad at you, and you tried to claim Halim’s power for yourself?”
“…Yes.”
“So the mercenaries left you, and things fell apart?”
It made sense.
Murch Pascal’s mercenary company was top in the business. Over 10,000 mercenaries under him, with 30,000 more in partner companies. Going against Murch came with a heavy price; Stefan lost his sword and shield in one blow.
“You tried to fill the gap, but it wasn’t enough. Incidents started happening.”
“Yes…”
Without proper security, everything collapses. Even goods meant for Ferda were stolen. Like a showroom without windows.
“Even the waggon heading to the royal territory… was attacked.”
Now, the delay made sense.
“Two days ago… I found out. The carriage was attacked, and everyone… Sandy, Coven… they’re all…”
Stefan couldn’t finish his sentence and covered his face. That incident had completely broken his spirit.
“I can’t do this anymore. I was never the kind of person fit for something like this to begin with. Wanting to own the Pascal Company, trying to monopolise magitech… none of those were things I should’ve had.”
“So I’m giving up, Regent. Thank you for giving a fool like me a chance until now—”
“That monopoly.”
Before Stefan could finish, Ferda interrupted.
“Was it something we needed?”
“Y-you mean the monopoly?”
“Yes. Was it really something necessary for protecting our interests?”
Now, in this state, Stefan thought. Was it… really necessary? Even if he hadn’t tried to monopolise it, sharing the profits would’ve been enough.
“Think carefully about the reason you had back then, and answer me.”
Just as Ferda said, Stefan thought back to that day. And he answered.
“…Yes.”
“Then you were fighting to protect what was ours.”
“You fought for the first time, but in the end, you lost hope.”
“That’s right.”
“Are you ashamed of your failure?”
Stefan lowered his head deeply.
“It is shameful.”
“So you tried to escape this situation by ending the contract?”
“I wasn’t running away.”
“That is running away. You’re choosing to compromise instead of facing the pain.”
“That event did help me reflect on myself.” Stefan let out a hollow laugh. His eyes had no focus.
“I have no talent, yet I was greedy… and I don’t even have the courage to hold on to anything. I’m the kind of third-rate guy who only comes to his senses after losing everything.”
Self-blame and self-hatred. The weight of many burdens was pressing down on his bent back. Ferda knew that kind of experience.
“Is that why you couldn’t reach out to me?”
“…Yes.”
Because he was afraid of becoming even more useless. Afraid to show his weakness and that it would be looked down on. The fear grew, crushed him, and eventually forced him to his knees.
“Stefan.”
“Yes, Regent.”
“I only asked one thing from you. Do you remember what it was?”
He remembered. Even now, the words were still clearly etched in his mind.
“You said… to become the owner of the Pascal Company.”
“That was the contract between us. What did you do for that contract? You supplied goods.”
“Yes.”
“You filled the shortages throughout the Eastern Royal Territory and opened up trade routes. That wasn’t easy, but you endured it.”
“To become the owner of the Pascal Company.”
Stefan didn’t answer. He pressed his lips tightly shut, afraid that if he spoke, his rising emotions would pour out.
Ferda continued.
“I’ll say it again — we made a contract.”
“……”
“You provide us with goods, and I’ll make you the owner of the Pascal Company.”
Those were the words that had once weighed so heavily on Stefan. But now, strangely, they didn’t feel like a burden.
“It means if you fight to become the owner, I’ll gladly stand by your side.”
Instead, he felt the weight lift from his shoulders.
“So I’ll ask just one last time.” Ferda spoke calmly for the final time.
“Do you truly want to give up everything?”
Life returned to Stefan’s lifeless eyes. The things he came here planning to give up began to come into view again. Stefan was a merchant. Who could be happy after losing everything? He didn’t want to feel the kind of peace that comes from having nothing. He wanted to use failure as a stepping stone to jump toward success.
“Kkhhh…”
Tears fell from Stefan’s eyes. With the sorrow rising in his throat, he finally spoke from the heart— a truth that had been with him since he was a child.
“I want to… become the owner of the Pascal Company.”
Stefan cried with his face pressed to the marble floor. He couldn’t say anything else, just sobbed. Just sobbed, unable to speak further.
Ferda looked down at him and spoke in a low voice.
“Administrator Isabella.”
Isabella, who had been watching everything, pushed up her glasses.
“Yes, sir.”
“Summon all the nobles of the Far Eastern Royal Territory under the title of Eastern Front Union Chairman.”
“Understood. What reason should I give for the summons?”
Ferda answered calmly.
“Sabotage against the entire Royal Territory.”
