Chapter 30: A Feast in Grayke (3)

In the study of the lord’s castle, Duke Taemulan, the Crown Prince, and Greike sat side by side. Behind them stood a mage, serving as the duke’s bodyguard, unmoving like a statue.

“How is the count faring?” the duke asked.

“Still the same, unfortunately,” Greike responded with a somber face. He knew this question was merely a formality, but thinking of his father always left him feeling frustrated and sad. His father had once been the epitome of health and kindness.

Greike couldn’t hide his gloomy expression as he anxiously glanced at the duke and the Crown Prince.

“Well, let’s move on. About your territory… Oh, it’s still your father’s territory, isn’t it?” the duke continued.

“Yes, it is still my father’s land. I’m only acting as his proxy,” Greike confirmed.

“That’s inconvenient. It’s clear to everyone that this will soon be your land, so I’ll refer to it as such,” the duke said, looking intently at Greike. The Crown Prince, a handsome man with long blonde hair, sat on the sofa with his arms crossed, showing no interest in the conversation.

“By the way, Greike, isn’t your father under the Marquis of Serin?” the duke asked.

“I believe so, but we haven’t had contact in a long time. I’ve never met him myself,” Greike replied.

“Is that so? Then it’s time to change your allegiance. Territories like yours can’t function properly without central support,” the duke finally revealed his true intention. Even Greike, inexperienced as he was, understood the implicit demand.

“Do you mean…?” Greike asked, puzzled.

“Are you pretending not to understand, or are you truly oblivious? Let me spell it out for you: I’m telling you to come under my protection. Your territory will be well-protected, and you should aim higher than being content with this small land. You should come to the capital,” the duke stated firmly.

“I haven’t considered that,” Greike responded, causing the duke to frown in displeasure. The young man’s hesitant reply annoyed him.

“But you need to make a decision. The Marquis of Serin has been bedridden for a long time,” the duke continued.

“Really? I didn’t know that,” Greike said, surprised. With his limited information, everything was news to him.

“Well, besides that, there’s another matter,” the duke said, crossing his legs and lowering his voice.

“We need more taxes from Grayke for large-scale irrigation projects and to support a civil war in a neighboring kingdom,” the duke said bluntly.

“That’s…” Greike was stunned. The duke’s directness revealed his true purpose: to increase taxes under false pretenses, essentially extorting the territory.

“Is this an official stance from the central government?” Greike asked nervously.

“Of course not. Managing the populace is the lord’s duty,” the duke laughed.

This meant the tax increase was an unofficial demand. The purpose of the duke’s visit was now clear: to squeeze the territories for more money and to expand his influence by increasing the number of his loyal nobles.

Without the duke’s protection, the people of Grayke would bear the brunt of this burden. Greike realized he had to refuse, but how?

Faced with the duke’s demands, Greike knew the citizens would suffer if he complied. Desperate for a solution, he suddenly stood up and exclaimed, “I will prepare a feast! I will give you my answer there.”

It was a desperate attempt to buy time, and the duke’s frown deepened.

“A feast? What can you possibly serve here that could compete with the royal cuisine? I fear it will only spoil our appetite,” the duke said dismissively.

Surprisingly, the Crown Prince, who had been silent until now, showed interest at the mention of a feast.

“Your Highness! We will prepare the finest meal for you,” Greike quickly addressed the prince, seizing the opportunity.

“What if it doesn’t satisfy me?” the prince asked, raising an elegant eyebrow.

“What do you mean?” Greike asked, unsure of the prince’s intentions.

“If your meal doesn’t satisfy me, what will you do?” the prince continued, stroking his fine eyebrows.

“I assure you, we have an excellent chef. There’s no chance you’ll be disappointed,” Greike responded, but the prince wasn’t satisfied.

“You seem confident. I find the palace routine tiresome. I’ve visited many territories with the duke, and nothing has relieved my boredom. The food, too, is always the same. So, if you’re so sure, let’s make a bet,” the prince suggested.

“A bet? What kind of bet?” Greike asked cautiously.

“If the meal fails to satisfy me, you’ll strip and run around Grayke. If I’m dissatisfied, I’ll do the same. Fair, isn’t it?” the prince proposed with a mischievous grin.

Greike was taken aback. Running around the city naked? He wanted to refuse but felt he had no choice. Confident in his mentor’s culinary skills, he reluctantly agreed.

“I accept,” Greike said, his voice steady despite his inner turmoil.

The duke, who had hoped for a quick resolution, was visibly annoyed by the prince’s interference. Nevertheless, he turned to Greike and said, “Fine. We’ll await your answer at the feast. But know this: if you reject my offer, Grayke will be isolated. You understand what that means for your trade, don’t you?”

Crossing his arms, the duke delivered his final threat.

—

“Your Highness, why would you make such a bet? What if you lose?” the duke asked, frustrated.

“That won’t happen. The food here can’t possibly be that good. Even if it is, I can just say I’m not satisfied,” the prince replied nonchalantly.

“That’s true, but…” the duke muttered, shaking his head. The Crown Prince’s playful attitude annoyed him, but it also made him easier to manipulate. Still, he couldn’t help but be irritated.

The Crown Prince, however, had his own reasons. He disliked the duke’s ambition to threaten the central authority.

“Tell me that story again, the one about the mage who even my father couldn’t handle,” the prince said, eager for a distraction.

“What story do you mean?” the duke asked, puzzled.

“You know, the one where my father was humbled by that mage,” the prince clarified.

“That’s not something we should discuss, Your Highness,” the duke cautioned.

“We’re not in the palace, are we?” the prince laughed.

The duke felt a headache coming on, unsure of the prince’s motives. The prince, sensing this, turned to the mage standing behind the duke.

“You there, explain it. Didn’t you work with that mage?” the prince asked.

The duke’s chief mage, Medrine, a renowned 7th-class mage who held the title of count, slowly opened her mouth.

“I dare not speak of that person lightly, Your Highness. Even His Majesty was wary of them,” Medrine said, her words implicitly belittling both the emperor and the duke, but the duke couldn’t argue.

“Have you ever seen them, Duke?” the prince asked.

“No, I haven’t,” the duke admitted. He had been abroad for diplomatic meetings during the mage’s prominence.

“But my subordinate clearly respects them,” the prince noted.

“Respecting someone of such power is only natural,” the duke conceded.

The prince, laughing, clearly enjoyed the duke’s discomfort, though the duke dismissed it as mere childish amusement.