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Chapter 40
“Still, it’s a relief that the antidote is being produced quickly. How long would it take to make enough to distribute in the capital?”
At Peter’s question, Piril—whose eyes were shadowed with fatigue—replied while stifling a yawn.
“If we have enough raw materials and manpower, we should be able to produce an emergency supply within five days.”
“That’s good to hear. Then hurry and—”
“But there’s a problem.”
While trying to smooth out her wildly disheveled hair, Piril scratched under her chin awkwardly.
“Well… since Tetrad is such a unique plant, the antidote must use its root extract as the main ingredient… and with the Tetrad the young lord provided, we can only make a few doses.”
“So, what you’re saying is—we need more Tetrad to make the antidote?”
“Yes, young lord.”
Peter’s face darkened at Piril’s explanation.
“That’s going to be difficult…”
Rubbing both temples roughly, Peter scribbled some numbers on a sheet of paper.
“What is it, young lord?” asked the Grand Duke.
“Well, Your Grace, this is something I’d still need to confirm. Then again, my calculations are never wrong, so there’s not much to confirm.”
When Kilian tapped the sheet Peter had been scribbling on, Peter let out a long sigh.
“I don’t think I have enough of the ingredient needed to make the antidote.”
Considering how much Tetrad had been diluted in the poisoned wells, the amount remaining in the Godwin family’s stores would be less than half of what Piril needed.
And it wasn’t like they could just go to the original source—it would take more than a month just for the trip.
Peter looked troubled.
By now, it wasn’t even about gaining anything—Peter himself needed the antidote.
In just the few days it had taken to begin making it, the situation in the capital had worsened significantly.
Thankfully, no deaths had occurred yet, but according to Nero, there were quite a few severe cases among children.
If someone were to die under these circumstances—and if the Grand Duke later revealed the whole truth to the public—Peter couldn’t imagine how he would endure the backlash from the Empire’s people.
The thought of such an unmanageable disaster sent a chill down Peter’s spine.
“What do we do… Say, is Tetrad absolutely necessary for making the antidote? If it were another ingredient, I could probably find a way.”
“Regretfully, it has to be Tetrad. Only its roots can purify the fruit’s poison.”
“This is a mess… Damn.”
With a pen in his mouth, Peter pressed the area near his temple with the knuckle of his finger.
“Nero. Still no word from my father?”
“No, sir.”
“Seriously? He usually contacts me almost every day—why the silence now?”
Peter stretched the skin at his temples in frustration, then suddenly widened his eyes.
“Wait! I completely forgot! Your Grace, Your Highness, there’s actually one more family in the Empire—besides us—that has Tetrad.”
“What do you mean?” asked Litrisha. “I thought the Godwin family monopolized all spice distribution in the Empire.”
Peter smiled, a dimple forming in his cheek.
“Of course, that’s true. But, Your Highness, we’re not the ones who transport the spices to the Empire.”
Peter spread his hands enthusiastically. Kilian slowly rubbed his lower lip.
“You’re talking about the House of Count Esta.”
Kilian’s voice was cold enough to bring a chill to the room, despite the roaring fireplace. Peter’s spine stiffened at the tone.
“Yes. The Esta family likely still has some Tetrad.”
“But why? Even if the Esta ships transport the spices, Duke Godwin would never share such valuable goods with them.”
“Normally, that would be true. But this year was a special case.”
This year, the unusually unpredictable weather caused issues with spice deliveries from the south, which in turn affected cash flow.
On top of that, the Imperial family unexpectedly raised the customs tax, making things even worse.
Unable to pay transport fees on time, Duke Godwin was forced—just this once—to pay the Esta family with some of his high-grade spices.
Among those expensive spices, it was only natural that a considerable amount of the rare Tetrad had ended up in the shipment.
Fortunately, there had been no reports of the Esta family releasing any of the spices into the market.
Which meant the Tetrad was probably still sitting in Count Esta’s storage.
“What a relief.”
Peter sighed in genuine relief at the well-timed solution, but no one else in the room looked particularly happy.
“So you’re saying we should ask Count Esta for it?”
“For now, that’s our best option. And isn’t it rather fortunate? It’s Her Highness’s family—asking shouldn’t be too difficult. I even heard that Count Esta recently returned to his territory.”
As Peter smiled cheerfully, Kilian’s eyes turned icy.
“If it’s such a good idea, then you can go ask Count Esta for the Tetrad.”
“That would be difficult, Your Grace.”
Even under Kilian’s terrifying glare—a look that would’ve made Piril’s knees give out—Peter simply scrunched his nose with a carefree grin.
“My father might still decide to reclaim those spices. That’s why Count Esta set a condition when paying: that no member of the Godwin family would ever bring up those spices again.”
“So I can’t be the one to go retrieve them,” Peter added, smiling with his eyes completely closed.
“That’s why someone else will have to go instead.”
***
“Hmm? Why is my ear so itchy today? Is someone talking about me?”
Perhaps with strong intuition came a sixth sense too.
Isis scratched his ear, somehow sensing that people up in the distant north were discussing him.
Passing by the storage house, he suddenly sneezed loudly—achoo!—as the pungent smell from one of the spices hit his nose.
“Ugh. Just how long do I have to babysit these things? The storage conditions are fussy as hell, too. What a pain.”
He glanced disdainfully at the shaded, well-ventilated warehouse like it was a cursed object, then sniffled in annoyance.
After a few more sneezes, Isis stomped back into the mansion, his face scrunched up like a crumpled piece of paper.
“What are you doing out here again, Father?”
With long strides, Isis climbed the stairs and approached Count Esta, who was standing blankly in front of a room.
Having returned from an external engagement just a few days ago, the Count occasionally exhibited this strange behavior.
He was staring at the room that Litrisha had used until recently.
A bed, a small wardrobe, a table, and a vanity.
The room was minimalistic, done in subdued tones. Count Esta frowned as he peered inside.
On the table, a few gold coins sat neatly arranged—payment for the clothes she had taken, perhaps?
“Impudent girl.”
He slammed the door shut and walked upstairs.
Though he’d stepped down as commander of the knights more than a decade ago, his posture remained straight and firm.
Trailing behind his clearly irritated father, Isis muttered.
“Why do you keep checking her room anyway? It only puts you in a bad mood.”
“Isis.”
“What? It’s not like I said anything wrong. That heartless woman—she couldn’t wait to get married and disappear, and she hasn’t even sent a letter since!”
Isis pouted and laced his fingers behind his head.
“I mean, come on. Ever since that plague or whatever broke out, people have been badmouthing our family just because she’s married to the Grand Duke. Doesn’t she have any conscience? She should’ve at least contacted us.”
Grumbling, Isis suddenly raised his voice.
“Seriously! What is this nonsense about a person spreading a disease like a god? That’s absurd! Right, Father?”
“Be quiet.”
“Yikes…!”
Hot-blooded as ever, Isis stomped but managed to shut his mouth—though not for long.
“By the way, Father, did you hear the news? Apparently Duke Godwin hasn’t shown himself in public lately. Do you know why? The reason is…”
He inhaled, lowering his voice like he was about to share a juicy secret.
“Rumor has it—he caught the plague that’s going around.”
