Chapter 186
“Lloyd Frontera, son of Count Arcos Frontera, seeks an audience with the great and almighty Sultan.”
A black marble floor.
Gilded pillars.
A dizzyingly high ceiling whose height seemed impossible to measure.
Lloyd’s voice carried through the vast hall.
He stepped across the smooth marble, passed between the pillars, then knelt and bowed his head toward the lofty throne that sat atop sixteen steps.
Yet the Sultan, Samarkhan Al Ahinshad, did not respond to Lloyd’s greeting.
He simply looked down at Lloyd with deeply sunken eyes.
‘So that’s the mastermind.’
Sultan Samarkhan’s gaze grew complicated.
Lloyd Frontera.
He had heard much about him.
No—he knew far too much.
He could not have helped it.
The Monster Domino Operation had been carried out under his command.
And the one who rose as the Magentano Kingdom’s greatest up-and-coming noble as a result of that operation was Lloyd.
‘I thought it would cripple Magentano’s eastern border for decades.’
But it had failed.
Even though more than a dozen territories were swept away.
One small territory alone endured to the very end.
It blocked and repelled every invading monster.
And that was not all.
It took in tens of thousands of refugees who had lost their homes in the Monster Domino’s aftermath.
Backed by the full support of the Magentano royal family, it rose to become the center of reconstruction.
Sultan Samarkhan knew the truth.
‘They say he was at the center of all those reversals.’
Lloyd Frontera.
It was because of him.
He stopped the Monster Domino.
Displaying strange and marvelous skills, he firmly established his territory as the heart of reconstruction.
And there was more.
‘He even counterattacked our western border.’
Wrinkles formed on Sultan Samarkhan’s brow.
He still could not forget that report.
Some of the monster hordes sent toward Magentano had turned back this way.
The border garrison suffered considerable damage.
And they said even that had been orchestrated by Lloyd Frontera.
‘Sometimes—no, often—I wondered. Hearing those reports again and again, I kept asking myself: just how exceptional is he? Perhaps his reputation is exaggerated. But seeing him in person… he’s far more brazen than I imagined.’
He recalled what had happened earlier.
A senior official from the Ministry of the Palace had rushed in with a report.
‘To think he would dare use the Padashar I bestowed to indulge in such shameless extravagance.’
He never could have imagined it.
Is it brazenness?
Or just boldness?
If not, is it outright provocation?
He had bestowed the Padashar, a symbol of the Sultan’s full favor.
Normally, one would accept it with humility and use it sparingly.
Or at the very least, feel some shame at receiving grace from the ruler of an enemy nation.
‘What in the world is he thinking, living as he does, to dare act like that? And how can he remain so composed even after being summoned here?’
The Sultan felt a sense of dissonance.
He observed Lloyd for a long while.
At last, he spoke.
“Lloyd Frontera.”
“Yes. Did you summon me?”
“Indeed. Was it good?”
“Pardon?”
“I mean, did it feel good to use the Padashar so unreservedly?”
“Of course. Truly, sincerely, it was wonderful.”
“…To that extent?”
“Long live the Sultan, ten thousand years!”
“……”
Lloyd prostrated himself fully and shouted with practiced skill.
Sultan Samarkhan shut his mouth.
He had expected at least a little embarrassment.
He had not expected Lloyd to so openly revel in the grace of an enemy ruler.
“Interesting. Are you not afraid of arousing the suspicions of Her Majesty the Queen of Magentano?”
“What suspicions do you mean, Your Majesty?”
“The suspicion that you are recklessly accepting my grace and betraying your homeland. You accepted the favor of an enemy ruler without refusal or hesitation. No—you even showed enjoyment and gratitude without shame. And yet you have no concerns?”
“Yes. I have none.”
“How so?”
“Because Her Majesty the Queen of Magentano has spent more money on me.”
“……”
“It is regrettable to inform you of this, but the amount you have bestowed this time is still considerably insufficient. However, great and almighty Sultan, please do not worry. This humble one will never forget the gratitude I feel for the Sultan’s grace, for as long as I live.”
“Hah. Truly a brazen fellow.”
The Sultan laughed despite himself.
He wondered how such a person could exist.
Yet strangely, he did not find Lloyd particularly dislikeable.
The reason was simple.
The Sultan had lived at the very center of the court.
He had endured a lifetime of cunning flattery and servile hypocrisy.
Countless subjects tried to cater to his every whim, all for the sake of slipping into his good graces.
Trying to receive even the smallest favor.
Like swarms of flies drawn to the sweetness of power.
They always postured. They always flattered.
But Lloyd’s words just now?
They were not flattery.
Sultan Samarkhan could tell that much clearly.
‘A brazen, strange fellow—to speak like that before me without hypocrisy, with genuine sincerity.’
He felt no falseness from Lloyd.
The words Lloyd had spoken were honest.
That was why it fascinated him.
“Then what if I were to bestow even more gold, silver, and treasures upon you? Would you gladly change your banner?”
As if poking at an interesting new toy.
Or prodding a mole cricket he had never seen before with a twig.
The Sultan asked, twisting one corner of his lips.
He already knew what answer would come back.
As expected, Lloyd did not disappoint.
“This humble one dares to ask the great and almighty Sultan first: would you truly wish to command someone who changes banners so easily?”
“Hoh?”
“This humble one, to be honest, likes gold, silver, and treasures. Not just likes them—I like them very much. If you were to guarantee endless wealth and honor, it is true my heart would waver. However, if I were to answer so readily that I would change my banner for that, I am not unaware that I would lose the Sultan’s trust.”
“Hm. You want to change banners, but if you did, you would lose my trust?”
“That is correct. Therefore, this humble one believes the tempting banner the great and almighty Sultan now waves before me is something I can never possess in my lifetime.”
“…Tch. A cunning fellow.”
The Sultan laughed, amused.
Lloyd Frontera.
Frankly, he was a coveted talent.
He was the one who had thrown a wrench into the Sultan’s plans.
Which meant he was that capable.
Moreover, he was a talent cherished by the Magentano royal family.
If he could recruit Lloyd on this occasion, it would be useful for a long time to come.
‘But if he could change banners for a handful of gold and silver… that would be equally disappointing.’
A man like that, no matter how capable, could never be trusted.
So the Sultan sounded him out.
Yet this young man seemed to have already seen through even that intent.
‘No wonder I find him all the more covetable.’
Satisfying.
It made him want more.
But greed had its limits.
Now it was time to raise the true reason he had summoned Lloyd.
“Very well. Then I shall ask you one thing. You wanted to meet me, didn’t you?”
“That is correct.”
“And so you used the Padashar lavishly, as if to show off?”
“That is also correct.”
Lloyd nodded.
It was true.
A calculated spending spree.
And a spending spree with a clear purpose.
The special envoy group was being blatantly ignored.
In that situation, it had seemed the most efficient way to force the Sultan to take notice.
‘So I spent lavishly and freely. And honestly, it was even better than I expected. As expected, one must make good friends.’
Lloyd recalled the past few days.
The spending spree had been planned and purposeful.
Yet he had genuinely enjoyed it.
It was the first time in his life he had ever spent money so freely.
He had even learned a valuable lesson: ‘So this is why people are always going on about money.’
‘That’s why they say you should have good friends. When you see people who, just because they have money, act arrogantly, flaunt it, and try to buy friendship with it—you should stay close to them for life.’
Such friends were useful again and again.
If possible, one should devote all passion and sincerity to maintaining the relationship.
For example, someone like the Sultan before him now.
With that lesson etched into his heart, Lloyd cautiously spoke.
“It is presumptuous of me to say this, but I wished to beg the great and almighty Sultan to sit at the negotiation table with the special envoy group.”
“Me? To negotiate with the special envoy?”
“That is correct.”
“Why?”
“Because war will bring misfortune to everyone.”
Lloyd’s voice rang clearly.
The Sultan curled one corner of his lips.
“I do not think so.”
“Pardon?”
“Why would war bring misfortune? One simply needs to win.”
“Does that mean you are confident of victory in a war with Magentano?”
“Not that.”
The Sultan’s smile deepened.
“Where in the world is there guaranteed victory? I am not so foolish as to believe such a thing. I am merely confident that war with Magentano will never be a loss for me.”
“Don’t tell me…”
“Good expression. Have you already guessed my intent?”
“Are you trying to divert internal disorder outward?”
“Indeed. I did not misjudge you.”
“……”
Lloyd fell silent.
Diverting internal disorder outward.
Overcoming political conflict by creating an external enemy.
A classic method used by countless rulers throughout history.
His mind spun.
‘So there’s internal trouble. He wants to cover it up—or resolve it—through war with Magentano. Then what is it? Think. Remember. Memory, do your job.’
He frantically searched through the contents of Iron Blooded Knight.
He rummaged through every drawer in his mind.
Then something surfaced.
‘Drought.’
It had been around the time Javier was crossing the Sultanate in Iron Blooded Knight.
There was an episode where he passed through a region suffering from prolonged drought.
People said they could not live like this.
They said they would all die at this rate.
Yet the Sultan paid no attention.
He was buried in the wealth and glory of the capital, Ahinsa.
So they planned rebellion.
They would bring down the Sultan and open a new era.
The enraged locals shouted for it.
Even the powerful local nobles, the Tohus, answered that cry.
‘In the end, a large-scale rebellion erupted. A civil war that lasted for years.’
At the end of that civil war, the Sultan was defeated.
With the palace court of Ahinsa surrounded layer upon layer, he ended his life by throwing himself from its highest spire.
That had been the story in Iron Blooded Knight.
‘In other words, if we leave him as he is, his position will become precarious.’
Of course, reality might differ from the novel.
Like Namaran, the timing and scale could shift.
But judging by what the Sultan was showing now—
‘The rebellion itself will likely happen. That’s why he doesn’t mind war with Magentano. He wants to divert attention and crush discontent through war. And at the core of that discontent is the prolonged drought.’
At last, the puzzle pieces clicked into place.
The Sultan starts a war.
He conscripts the young men from the provinces.
The families left behind—the elderly and the weak—lose the strength to rebel.
They can only pray their sons, husbands, and fathers return safely from the battlefield.
And wartime conditions help the Sultan in other ways.
People cannot freely voice discontent.
If they speak carelessly, it becomes easy to brand them as collaborators with the enemy.
And fear also restrains them: if civil war erupts at home, the battlefield situation worsens, and their loved ones dragged to the front may die.
‘That’s how he controls them. Forced unity.’
Lloyd built the scenario in his mind and nodded inwardly.
He understood the Sultan’s intent.
He understood the Sultan’s situation.
Then—
What bait could he offer?
“However, this humble one dares to say that drought is not an issue that can be easily covered up by war.”
“…What?”
At those sudden words, the Sultan’s brows twitched.
Lloyd continued, already calculating the angle of the conversation.
“It is shameful for me to say this to you, but I cannot bear to see the great and almighty Sultan, who has bestowed grace upon me, fall into hardship—so I dare to inform you.”
“…That I will fall into hardship?”
“That is correct.”
“Explain.”
“Yes. It is shameful to report, but…”
“Skip the formalities.”
Perhaps because Lloyd had pinpointed the keyword ‘drought’ in one shot, the Sultan had turned serious.
He was no longer smiling.
Not bad.
It meant the stage was finally set for real negotiation.
Understanding that, Lloyd spoke.
“As the great and almighty Sultan commands, I will speak directly. I have heard the Kandahar region of the Sultanate is suffering from a prolonged drought. Is that correct?”
“It is.”
“Then if this humble one were to resolve the chronic drought in Kandahar, would the great and almighty Sultan be able to sit for negotiations with the Magentano special envoy as I wish?”
“…What?”
The Sultan’s mustache twitched.
“The drought? You claim you can resolve it?”
“That is correct.”
“Resolve a drought in the middle of the desert, where even the oases are drying up? You?”
“That is also correct.”
“How?”
“Though it is shameful, until the great and almighty Sultan accepts my conditions, I cannot inform you beyond that.”
“Why?”
The Sultan asked.
At last, Lloyd raised his head.
Very politely—careful not to offend the wealthy customer before him—with a faint look of helplessness in his eyes, as if to say he truly had no choice but to answer this way, he said earnestly,
“Because it is a trade secret.”