The Duke of Gerald. If you were to describe Alastair Darryl Gerald's impression in a nutshell, it would be 'a completely indelible old gentleman'. Take his attitude as good or disrespectful, as the case may be.
The head mixed with gray hair looked silver gray, always waxing its hair and beard to the perfect shape. It's already old, but it's getting worse, wrapping a thin body in a tailored suit and taking a polished mythrill stick and going out lightly everywhere.
He is the first person to be named when it comes to the Great Lords within Ciel-Teira. The territory is also financially rich and prosperous because it has the mines of Grasselm. The opulence and robustness of his castle will be second only to that of the royal castle.
Such a note of correspondence was delivered to him when he was grabbing breakfast in the dining room of his castle.
To make a magical call with a distant opponent, you have to set up a ritual venue for it to show the opponent and the time. You can't do that a little bit, so it's common for messages to be delivered via a communications bureau or something. It's similar to a telegram if you compare it to something in Japan on Earth.
A servant bowed his head with a note on top of the basin respectfully, and Alastair stopped his hand cutting the sausage and took the note.
But the moment I saw the sentence 'Count Keeley' describing the sender, Alastair felt fed up.
Stupid man who forced the former king to give no credit to the coup for what he's sticking at you with no big deal about political or military influence. It's an inner worry that makes us adults now, but that could also destabilize Hilberto II's reign. There's no way I wouldn't hate to hear from someone like that directly.
Not to mention (something the Count himself doesn't know yet) a man who was recently taken over territory and stripped of his title as well. It seems silly to deal with them, too.
In front of my servant, I didn't imitate anything that would obviously twinkle my eyebrows, but if I was allowed to, I wanted to tear it away without even reading the contents.
I didn't do that because I thought I really, just in case, had to read it because some mistake doesn't necessarily mean the super important contact doesn't come from him.
Alastair, who spreads a folded note and reads it at first reading, frowns at its bizarre content.
"... you know what this is saying?
The servant who carried the note was prompted by Alastair to read it, and he also looked like the Duke.
"'Someone who slaughtered a member of the criminal organization Nightpython and grabbed the girl of an adventurer who was in captivity... flying magically into the sky for Wesara'? Hey, what is this? I don't know."
"I'd like to bet if the Count went crazy.... for once, tell the guards to shoot me down when something weird flies in."
"Yes, sir."
My servant gratefully drops back.
The note also said, 'I want you to tie up the guy who flew in and turn him in' or 'If I had a girl, I'd protect him', but I decided not to look at him because I don't care too much.
It should be noted that the improper relationship between Nightpython and Alastair, whispered in part, is true.
But at this time, Alastair didn't want to bother contacting or telling Nightpython about the contents of the note.
If you're talking about Night Python, Night Python should know best. They seem to be an organization that cows through the dark world, ears faster than anyone else.
If something is happening that involves Alastair, they'll say it from the other side, otherwise you don't have to bother talking.
I have plans to secretly meet with the Night Python leader tonight. To the extent that I thought I could use it as a seed for conversation then if I insist.
And even after the sun had set, there were visitors to the castle of Alastair, to be dispersed in the darkness at night.
He's a well-dressed old man with a few escorts.
Falling dimpled eyes shine brightly, lean and versed. Standing fingers give an ominous impression.
Now the atmosphere is like if you were wearing a robe, you'd be the bad wizard himself in a fairy tale. Because of this, I also get the seemingly comical impression, but the contents are a monstrous old master hundreds of times more than the appearance.
He is the one who cows this Ciel-Teira night world.
Night Python leader.
A man with many names, but at least when he meets Alastair, he's named Graham Baltark.
"Hi Alastair. It sounds like a breath disaster."
"Neither do you, Graham. It's cold this winter. It's tough on old bodies."
"Pull it out. It doesn't look like this one's coming either."
Alastair welcomes Graham himself and exchanges his voice in peace.
There was a strange relationship of trust even though it was between using each other without alarm.
Graham visits this castle from time to time.
The castle is purposefully used for intimate meetings, simply because it is the Duke's own castle that is the best from the point of view of confidentiality.
Some of the servants were thinly aware of who Graham was, but they were closing their eyes because of their loyalty to the Duke, or holding their mouths to fear the Duke and Graham.
Graham is put through to the reception room during meal scheduling.
Filled with surprisingly delicate decorations, ceilings, walls and floor carpets, this room is so luxurious that those who enter it for the first time will remember the glare. All that was placed was practical 'furniture' such as desks, chairs, and magic lamp lighting, all of which were essentially a delicacy that could be described as conditioning.
This is a room where exploratory inhibition works, preventing magical eavesdropping and peeping.
It was customary for Graham to talk business here first when he came to the castle.
Bring in your men and escorts to confront Graham, while Alastair also leads a credible subordination.
"Give me that."
"Ha."
No forward gestures or anything, Graham urges his men.
Then Graham's men took one leather bag out of their luggage.
It's a leather bag that just seems sturdy and doesn't have any weird philosophy, but it's just swollen into pieces. When placed on the table, he made a metallic squeal.
"Check it."
"Yes."
Alastair also commands officials present (precisely those who obtain knighthood status and assist in territorial management) to ascertain its contents.
The laying leather bag spit out countless pieces of gold coins. It's a lot of money that's blinding to the common people, but the government stacks up 10 pieces apiece to make sure there's no quality problem while counting it up.
"No difference"
"Um, good."
In other words, it was a bribe.
This money will disappear as Alastair's personal penny, and Alastair will instead try to be convenient to Night Python.
But Alastair slipped two of the ten piles of gold coins back to Graham so that they could slide on his desk.
"Trouble?
Already Graham laughs nibbly in a meticulous manner.
"In a mine to the west. Miners raise their salaries. Give me some time off. I made a scene. At a time when the country is unstable, we do not have time to drift into extra problems.
I'm burning the miners' heads by saying something extra... um, it would help if they were in an 'accident'. "
"'Accident'..."
"" Ha, ha, ha, ha ""
The two laugh frankly.
Graham has his usual job, and Alastair doesn't have the feeling he's killing people. For Alastair, 'person' refers only to those who possess power or status. The descending people who can only live under the shelter of their lords are livestock, and rebellious and useless livestock naturally slaughter and kill.
But for some reason, doing it with dignity would be a hassle, so he was pushing his dirt job on the nightpython.
"The country is still noisy, but what about your economy?
"Well... there are some jobs that you can't do without at times like this. That's what I make."
Finishing the business conversation, the two enter into an exchange of information at work.
Rulers and Great Lords of Back Society. There is something we can only see from each other's point of view. It was unexpectedly of great benefit to each other to face each other and talk to each other again and again.
"Are the details of the territorial conversion packed yet?
"Oh, that's the story"
What Graham is most interested in right now is the territorial conversion secretly prepared by the new king Hilberto.
Take and redistribute territory from lords who were non-cooperative in the coup. Graham learned this information at a stage he was still considering internally because he heard it directly from Alastair, who had a deep relationship with Hilberto.
When the world of the table moves, the world behind it has to move too.
By adapting as quickly as possible to the new forms of society, Nightpython can make the reign of the backward society more of a cornerstone.
In addition, there are places where economic value is increased by conversion and vice versa. Just knowing it beforehand can make a huge profit.
"It's not true, but it's 90% packed. I'll give it to you, if that's what you want."
"Excellent. Thanks for the friendship."
Alastair takes a small, folded note out of his nostalgia and slips it on his desk and gives it to Graham. Graham grabbed it up at his fingertips and laughed evilly.
"That little Earl Keeley is finished now, too"
"I sold a fight to Nightpython at a time like this, that free man? Even if I say the contents of the conversion are not yet finalized, I'm only sure he'll lose everything.
... Speaking of which, I got a strange call from that Count Keeley this morning... "
That was when Alastair was about to cut out to talk about that communication.
"Get out of my way!
With the roar, the wall of the reception room blew inward.