Chapter 85: Silver Mine, Adviser, and Prince

Light’s Three Gods… fifty pounds? Refined? What do you think this is? Mud on the ground that you can just scrape together?

The old Marquis’s beard trembled. For a moment, he almost forgot his noble manners and wanted to swear—fortunately, years of cultivated restraint only made him let out an awkward snort.

Everyone knew mithril production was so low… a silver mine producing fifty pounds a day couldn’t yield fifty pounds of mithril in a year. It was considered a rich mithril vein even if it produced thirty-something pounds! That was why this metal was so precious. Moreover, mithril was more likely to be found deep in silver mines where the ore appeared in large quantities. This mine had only just opened a layer near the surface. Even with blatant, extensive digging, it couldn’t reach such production within a few years! Plus, this mine’s output hadn’t even been estimated yet. If it was a small vein, there would be even less surplus!

Not to mention he said refined mithril… refining mithril required a Mage’s involvement. Although the mastermind behind it all had such manpower, that condition was absolutely unacceptable! It far exceeded the value of the silver mine itself!

Was this brat stating a real demand, or deliberately provoking me? Or was there another reason? Marquis Gerald suddenly remembered a piece of information he received earlier. “Could that legend be true?”

In the past few months, the Foreign Minister had collected and compiled a batch of information about this youth. The information clearly stated this youth had been detained by his father in a certain manor for over ten years, supposedly because he had some mental issues… But ever since he came to Hayton, such rumors gradually disappeared. Not only did he awaken his Spellcaster talent in a short time, he even defeated several apprentices and Formal Mages in the Mage Tower. And a few days ago, he presided over the completion of a Magical Artifact.

Especially since the Imperial Minister of Internal Affairs knew very well, this little fellow was also present at the banquet related to his succession with the predecessor—and the only one who uncovered the mystery. Although it wasn’t very difficult, a youth managing it could still be considered talented.

Such a person couldn’t be described as dull-witted… But the Marquis now seemed to understand something.

The person before him was certainly no fool, but he was very likely a madman!

So the old man felt especially headache. Obviously, a madman wasn’t easy to communicate with. Reason was useless with them. But then, he suddenly thought of some possibilities… Or was there a deeper layer to this?

Did Duke Connalyvis authorize him to do this? If so, how much benefit did the Griffin intend to gain from this silver mine? But that seemed unlike the usual style of those military thugs… Or perhaps this matter was already known to His Majesty? It was said he also had his own groups of Mages and Clerics, with investigative abilities on certain matters and regions no less than Archmage Callister Satanber!

“This… haha, Viscount Constantine, I find we need to carefully consider both sides’ needs.” The Marquis’s Adam’s apple bobbed twice, but he found his throat had no saliva left to swallow. He could only give a dry laugh, like the screech of a night owl.

“I believe I’ve already considered our needs, Marquis… Silver ingots may not be as valuable as gold, but once minted into coins, they can almost immediately convert into equivalent value…” Seemingly displeased at his opinion being dismissed, the youth coldly cut him off. “For a populous city like Hayton, aren’t silver coins more purchasing power than gold coins?”

The old man fell silent. He found his once proud eloquence seemed useless before this little monster. The other side saw the matter very clearly.

Give up then? But without the desired payment, the other side had no reason to keep the secret… Once the mithril mine matter leaked before the Emperor, the mastermind behind might not suffer much shock, but he, this newly-promoted Imperial Minister of Internal Affairs, would definitely not be spared. Even if His Majesty the Emperor generously pardoned him, he’d at least get a charge of poor judgment. But that master would definitely not let him off… The Marquis’s thoughts raced. His gray temples began to glisten with moisture under the light.

“Viscount Constantine, I must remind you, silver mine refining isn’t as simple as you imagine… And fifty pounds of mithril already exceeds what I can promise.” After quickly thinking for a moment, the Imperial Minister of Internal Affairs gritted his teeth and chose to continue negotiating with this little monster before him. He tried to understand the other’s intentions. “After all, silver mine production requires considerable time. So, could we provide you one-quarter of the output annually until the amount is met? Do you find this condition acceptable?”

“Installment payments? You know that’s the root of squeezing consumer ability… Not to mention output—that could be falsified endlessly…” As if to prove some of the old man’s guesses, the youth said some strange things, using common vocabulary to form incomprehensible sentences. “I don’t like this method.”

“But I truly lack the ability… This isn’t something I can decide…” The repressed conversation style made the old man somewhat impatient. He finally began to slightly bring out his backer. “Viscount, I must consider my side’s practical interests, otherwise!”

“No need to rush, Marquis, no need to rush… We still have time, don’t we? I always believe things in the world, if one is willing to calm down, can have a good outcome.” Watching the Imperial Minister of Internal Affairs showing early signs of Parkinson’s, Constantine gave a smile.

He saw the other’s suppressed anger process and already had a rough estimate in mind… Actually, demanding fifty pounds of mithril was originally an excessive demand… It was starting high so bargaining could bring it down. Because of his special position, the other side couldn’t help being suspicious, but this situation actually allowed him to fish in troubled waters. Settling this negotiation in one go was a complete waste. Anyway, he had plenty of time. He might as well hassle this old fellow a few times and observe the other’s attitude.

Negotiating with people who think themselves clever was easy, because they always overthought. Before even probing the other’s bottom line, they were already defeated by their own rich imagination…

But he really did need mithril. His current abilities were low, yet he seemed to receive special favor from Beshaba… Plus, often hearing his spell advisor talk about the wonders of various magical equipment, he yearned infinitely for these marvelous things.

The Spellcasters of this world didn’t seem to have any theory about training themselves to supremacy—there weren’t many shortcuts on the path of power growth, nor many special states. No matter how a Mage trained, the ability they could ultimately achieve was limited. Unless you had exceptional talent and ambition for the lofty seats of the deities, once a Mage’s ability rose to Hartdiel’s level, it basically reached a threshold.

So relying on various external forces to strengthen oneself became a natural means. That was why the Lich said he was lucky when Constantine met Vernal.

However, dealing with Mages differed from merchants. They had little interest in gold coins, gems, or greenbacks. Generally, what they put up for sale were mostly failed experimental works or casual creations. Relying on those to increase power was quite a stretch. To extract good items from their hands, there were only two common ways: either, like dealing with Christine, use clever ideas as currency; or else use rare materials—like various rare minerals, gemstones, or mithril—for barter.

Besides, Constantine himself had considerable need for such things, as he had long made Alchemy one of his research directions.

“Alright, alright, Marquis. To show my sincerity, I think I can provide you with some more efficient silver mining methods. I believe this can be profitable for both of us…” Glancing at the Marquis showing signs of explosion, Constantine threw out a bait the other couldn’t refuse—after all, he couldn’t let the other see no hope at all. A mutually destructive situation wasn’t what the youth wanted. “Today we both seem to lack some calm. So I think finding an opportunity to gather again to discuss my request, coordinating our differences, is a good idea. Of course, if possible, please invite the one with decision-making power next time. I believe we’ll certainly find many topics in common…”

…

“Jack, your first task.” Watching Marquis Gerald Baskett Field’s carriage drive out the gate, Constantine suddenly snapped his fingers lightly.

“You… boss, how did you know I was here?” Not far from him, a shadowed corridor wall slowly changed color, then condensed into a Rogue. He looked at Constantine incredulously. “Even big sister can’t see through my stealth…”

“That’s just a minor matter…” Constantine casually dismissed it—someone said maintaining a sense of mystery before subordinates was important; it could effectively control them. “Follow him. Pay attention to who he contacts… But no need to force it; just get a general idea… Give me a report before tomorrow. No problem?”

This old man was just a mid-level official. Discussing things with him was too tiring and troublesome. Rather than wasting time like this, it was better to directly talk to that backer. Or perhaps it was the Marquis’s ambiguous attitude that piqued his interest in that mastermind?

“Brother.”

Perhaps today was a suitable day for meetings… The thief’s figure had just disappeared through the door when a voice came from the side veranda.

Constantine frowned, noticing Consens had already started walking over from there. He was still in those seemingly quite elegant white clothes, followed by that bodyguard-like Knight. Only the haughty part of his expression had completely vanished; his gaze at Constantine was full of wariness.

Actually, this brat, along with his mother and sister, had already appeared very little before Constantine lately. Although living under the same roof, in the past ten-plus days, the number of times they met could be counted on one hand… Now he suddenly appeared and initiated conversation was obviously somewhat unusual.

“I haven’t had time to congratulate you. Sincere congratulations on your promotion…”

This brat spoke with a smile, though the smile didn’t contain much sincerity. “It seems you’ve started your work… I must admit, your drive is strong. You’ve so quickly connected with the Prince…”

“Prince?” Constantine frowned. The term the other mentioned was obviously sensitive. “Which Prince?”

“So it isn’t? Or… brother, you don’t know? Tsk, I thought you’d investigate details about that banquet…” The youth’s face showed a surprised expression, but soon turned into a mocking smile. “This Marquis Gerald Baskett Field, the Minister of Internal Affairs, has almost become Marquis Albert Merry’s loyal adviser. But recently, his private relationship with the Second Prince has been quite good…”

So Constantine’s frown deepened… because he found he seemed involved in some thorny trouble.

The Princes of the Phoenix Empire… Actually, they weren’t Princes; these two Highnesses should be considered the old Emperor’s grandsons.

The old Emperor didn’t have many sons. As a supreme ruler in peaceful times, he not only had no illegitimate children but also no legitimate Princes… This was a strange thing… Actually, people in this world, especially among Nobles, married quite early. Having many descendants representing family prosperity was similar to most feudal societies Constantine remembered. So a man over fifty having over a dozen teenage grandsons wasn’t a big deal.

Of course, this didn’t mean His Majesty had any physiological defects. Though seemingly diligent in governance and deeply affectionate with the Empress, the Emperor had no rumors of lovers, but the Empress still bore him two sons and a daughter.

But this Emperor’s sons clearly had no connection with that golden seat. The first, the old Emperor’s eldest son, was undoubtedly closest to that seat. But unfortunately, though born when His Majesty was still young, he didn’t inherit his father’s robust physique and vigorous vitality. After being the Crown Prince for nearly twenty years, he suddenly died from a strange illness, leaving a similarly frail son and countless strange rumors.

Although Constantine, based on description, guessed he died of a heart attack, people of this era obviously didn’t have that concept. The reason they could accept was that the Crown Prince, too impatient for his father’s eventual passing, launched a hopeless coup and perished in it.

But this didn’t cause many problems, because the Emperor’s second son was undoubtedly more suitable to become King. He completely inherited all traits of the old Emperor’s ancestors: formidable martial prowess, resolute personality nearing ruthlessness, and for many years, he was everyone’s favored successor. But the gods seemed to like playing jokes on this family. This Prince inexplicably encountered some magical beasts during a hunt, a minor wound led to contracting a strange disease.

At first, it was just ordinary fever and chills, but soon turned into mad roaring and meaningless attacks. Though the church Priests prayed with various Divine Powers, they couldn’t save his life. Dozens of days later, he left this world amid wails, as if cursed… Though Constantine knew very well it wasn’t a Curse; rabies was also incurable in his memory.

So only a daughter remained.

A female Emperor wasn’t a big deal for the Empire. After all, the Celestial Realm deities also had at least one-third female Deities. And in Humanity’s long history, rulers as numerous as stars in the sky appeared across the Continent; the number of females probably reached over one-third—and that was just among Humans. If extended to the Prime Material Plane, that ratio would probably double. Just those deep underground, Drow who took the Spider Queen as their Main Deity were already accustomed to each city having over a dozen lofty Matron Mothers.

But we clearly know, Constantine’s mother-in-law had little interest in power. Though she possessed most qualities to become an Empress, she obviously lacked interest in sitting on that supreme Emperor’s throne of the Western Continent.

Thus, the Phoenix royal family’s first-generation successors had mostly faded from view. Fortunately, seemingly with the Three Gods of Light’s blessing, Rafael VII’s health remained quite good. Over a dozen years passed, the two Princes’ sons each grew up. The succession issue seemed no longer a problem, but clearly a problem arose…

Who had the right to inherit that throne? The legitimate but frail and sickly eldest grandson? Or the martial-famed second grandson?