The Medieval Modern Man With A Gamer Mindset

The Medieval-Modern Man With A Gamer Mindset 9

9. Gold Coins Carry the Truth

Anyone would have guessed upon seeing my clumsy act of a ruffian.

That there was some ulterior motive. Indeed, as people suspected, I wasn’t just acting the fool to get expelled from the family.

The starting point was before I began my ruffian act, during a private meeting with my father, the Prince of Aeselton. It was when the Prince of Aeselton was shocked upon hearing the true nature of the conspiracy hatched by Yubas.

I proposed a way to turn the tide to the deeply worried Prince of Aeselton. To use Yubas’s plan against him, lead the annulment, and then seek the church’s protection in their stead.

It was a win-win strategy for both the Prince of Aeselton and me. If I joined the church and became an aide to the Pope, the Prince of Aeselton would play the role of mediator between the church and the local nobility.

Being the third son, I’d only inherit scraps of land anyway, so it was better to comfortably become a clergyman and lead a moderately corrupt life. After all, nobility is nothing without money.

The only concern was whether the church would accept me, but considering the split with Yubas, the chances were high.

The Pope, wanting to expand his influence in the area, would surely take note of my political value, such as my willingness to join the clergy despite being of noble blood. It was a very good story for the church, looking for a power to replace Yubas.

Of course, not everyone would like this plan. There was already someone who would openly hate it. Yubas. Yubas would do whatever it takes to prevent my expulsion and entry into the clergy.

And I suspect… Yubas’s ‘prevention’ wouldn’t be something gentlemanly or mild, like diplomatic pressure or a show of force. I had a vague, no, a clear guess of what it could be.

As I’ve always said when hatching a conspiracy, one must prepare a Plan B. So, what would be the Plan B in a scheme to claim inheritance rights through a troubled child? I calmly conveyed to the Prince of Aeselton the fact I had realized.

“But father, there is one critical variable in the plan I mentioned.”

“A variable? What kind of variable?”

The Prince of Aeselton still looked confused. Clearly, he lacked understanding in this area. The Prince of Aeselton, kind to his family and proud as a noble, didn’t know how vile the top 1% of the medieval society could be.

I shared my speculation with the Prince, who sighed with a mix of lament.

“If Yubas, who has been expanding his power with the church’s protection, doesn’t know the church’s strength, he will by now. What would he do if someone else tried to wield that power? Especially if it disrupts his grand scheme of usurpation?”

“…Are you suggesting he would start a war?”

Yubas, who had forced a marriage through a show of military strength, would likely raise an army again. The Prince of Aeselton said this, stroking his beard as if squeezing out the words. It wasn’t that he hadn’t thought of it; he just didn’t want to think about it.

Perhaps Prince Aeselton already knew the answer. But it was such a shocking response that he must have unconsciously turned away from it. And as a subject who had devised a strategy, it was my duty to inform him of what I suspected.

“I insulted Yubas and denied my child, claiming it wasn’t mine, but it is a child born after our marriage. Moreover, at twelve years old, it’s an age where one could have been intimate. It’s enough to insist on it. From their perspective, I have outlived my usefulness.”

“…”

“Now, even if I were to indulge in debauchery, it’s too late. Before the family decides to expel me, I must preserve my inheritance rights, controversial as they may be. Or I must not be left to join the church and raise a power to replace Yubas.”

Having said this, even Prince Aeselton could no longer hide his agitation. With a pale, sickly complexion, he looked at me and let out a groan mixed with the sound of metal.

“Narba.”

“We must prepare for assassination, Father.”

It was pitiful to see Prince Aeselton in pain, but the truth had to be told. Yubas would be preparing assassins.

And I would be the first target.

If one thinks that assassination is far-fetched… then they are already a walking corpse. It’s true that there are some sloppy aspects to the conspiracy Yubas has woven. However, the plan itself was incredibly complex and meticulous.

Starting with the targeting of the third son.

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In a stable succession where the eldest son grows up without issues, it’s rare to worry about the third son. The second son might be educated as a contingency, but not the third. It would be like creating another competitor for the heir.

For this reason, the third son is usually managed more loosely. Unless the ones above him die in succession, there’s little chance of inheriting, so it’s natural. Sometimes, even a slightly mismatched marriage is encouraged. It’s to prevent the in-laws from bringing in external forces to aim for the heir’s position.

But if the third son were to inherit, it would be like hitting the jackpot for the in-laws.

Think about it. What has this kid learned to rule as a king? Sitting on the throne, looking at his subjects, and then what? Imagine the in-laws saying, “Oh dear, our son-in-law is struggling, we’ll take over for him~” and then they take everything.

And in our medieval fantasy strategy life simulation game, Fantasy Monarch, waiting for the lottery to hit is the lowest of the low. It’s something only fit for the sewers.

A true first-class creates opportunities. And usually, those opportunities arise when one stabs with a knife. This is the part I’m worried about.

Considering Yubas’s meticulousness, there must be more than one or two spies already in collusion. Perhaps they had been digging holes since the alliance with the church.

It’s somewhat similar to cockroaches.

Sometimes, in the shadows of dawn, you see a black object moving. You grab whatever you can to smash it, but by the time you get there, it’s gone. It’s definitely there, but it’s daunting to figure out how to find it.

That’s exactly the situation now.

What’s needed at such times is a change of perspective. You can’t catch it because you’re trying to smash it. The saying “Don’t burn down your house to catch a flea” also means that if you burn down the house, you’ll catch the flea.

I had to put in a lot of effort to persuade Prince Aeselton with this argument.

“Are you suggesting we suspect the servants? Those who have served loyally here.”

“The loyal ones reveal themselves without a word when their faith is questioned. Father, Yubas’s assassination is much more realistic than you think. If Yubas kills me right away, our family will also be suspected.”

“Suspected? Us?”

“During the ongoing reluctance to agree to the marriage proposal, if the son engages in debauchery, it’s an opportunity to execute him. If such baseless rumors spread, it could provoke Yubas’s intervention over the unjust death of his son-in-law.”

This is Yubas’s Plan B that I’ve deduced.

Even if I’m expelled from the family and sent to a monastery, if I die along the way, naturally, our family will also be under suspicion. At this point, it’s a mud fight. People move not by truth, but by public opinion.

And in a mud fight, the one with the stronger fist has the advantage.

—

But strength alone does not always win a fight.

“First, you must employ strategy.”

Sometimes, it’s the dirtier side that prevails.

***

This was the latter part of a private meeting called by the troubled King immediately after striking the midwife’s cheek.

It was a rough explanation of why my rascal deeds were necessary. In the midst of discussing the opaque truths surrounding the mother and child, a suspicious gold coin of unknown origin was found in the servants’ quarters.

At first glance, they seemed like separate incidents, but those with rich imaginations were already running their mental graphics cards at full speed. Edwina, my ever-present maid with her braided hair and confident demeanor, was no exception.

Edwina slightly furrowed her brow as she watched the procession of servants, linked together like dried fish, trudging down the corridor. Had it not been for the soldiers gripping their spears with stern looks, she would have pestered them with questions long ago.

“Who exactly received the gold coin? Was it that man with the slightly balding head who wanted to order a hair growth potion from the alchemist? Or was it that lady who has taken a liking to a man other than her husband and has been taking care of his various needs?”

“Edwina, are you that curious?”

I asked, impressed by her inquisitive nature. Edwina turned her head towards me with a blunt expression and continued to nod.

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“Yes. I am truly curious.”

Our Edwina may seem expressionless, but she’s actually a very honest maid. Far better than those who twist their words and sulk when misunderstood. I valued Edwina’s curiosity and decided to give her an opportunity.

“Would you like to join me later in interrogating them with Sir Overt, the intelligence officer?”

I offered her the best seat for immediate questioning, but her reaction was puzzling. Edwina looked at me with indescribable eyes and slowly turned her head away.

“…No.”

“Edwina, you seem to struggle when given the stage.”

“….”

Well, there’s no point in insisting if she’s not inclined. I watched the backs of the servants heading towards what seemed like a medieval horror attraction and pointed to a corner of the corridor with my index finger.

It was a very safe place, thanks to the silver-armored soldiers with bulging eyes resting their hands on the hilts of their swords.

“Then Edwina, stay there for a while. We’ll talk after I’ve interrogated the servants.”

“What? …You mean over there, where the soldiers have their hands on their sword hilts?”

“I trust you, Edwina.”

I meant it sincerely. Edwina had no emotional debt or motive to betray our family. After all, she served a lord who deeply cared for and looked after his subordinates.

I believed Edwina would never betray us. Even though I had said to burn down the thatched houses, how could Edwina be compared to mere thatched huts? The thought of having to suspect my loyal Edwina weighed heavily on my heart.

But if that was Sir Overt’s judgment, what could I do? He had decided to send her to the solitary cell, and the corridor had been cleared, so Edwina would understand my feelings.

“Our intelligence officer thinks differently than I do. He’s checking all the servants, so stay quietly by my side. If you need to use the privy, just tell the soldiers, and…”

“I will go, to the prison!”

It was an utterly absurd statement for someone who believed in Edwina’s innocence more than anyone. I stared at Edwina with wide eyes.

“Why would you go to prison?”

—

Sometimes, faith can move people. My sincere belief in Edwina’s innocence was no different. Edwina looked at me with eyes slightly brimming with tears, biting her lower lip to hold back the welling sobs.

“Gonzanimul gyeoteso mohigo siseumnidaa…”

“Goodness. There’s no need for such words. Why would we need them between us?”

Indeed, people are the true wealth that remains. I couldn’t help but nod at Edwina’s faithful demeanor. I turned my gaze, sharper than an arrow, towards the soldiers who were glaring at us, or more precisely, at Edwina.

“Did you hear? Tell the intelligence officer later.”

The soldiers’ refusal came back when I hinted they could leave. Several of them hung their heads in shame, thumping their chests with their fists.

“Your Highness, our duty is to escort you safely. Until we join Sir Overt, we cannot leave your side… especially when there is a suspect present.”

“It must be awkward for you. Very well, escort me.”

I realized then that if I had simply sent them away, they would have been relentlessly scolded. Considering their position, I allowed them to escort me. Only then, as we were about to move towards the prison, did I notice Edwina had turned deathly pale.

“Your, Your Highness.”

“What’s the matter?”

“…If I had gone to those soldiers earlier.”

I thought something serious had happened, but it was just Edwina worrying too much again. I gave her a reassuring smile to ease her mind.

“Don’t worry. You don’t need to know. It’s no longer your concern.”

“…”

By that time, the soldiers who had gathered around me had long since lowered their hands from the hilts of their swords. I surveyed the burly soldiers and Edwina, who kept her gaze fixed on the ground, pale as a ghost, and then said,

“Let’s go. Sir Overt must be waiting for us.”

***

The medieval horror attraction that is the prison was tagged with numerous labels, some of which people easily overlook.

Even I, who had spent thousands of hours enjoying the medieval fantasy strategy game, Fantasy Monarch, had forgotten them. #More important than gore. Those were #unhygienic #filth.

As soon as I entered the prison, I was struck by the pungent stench and an indescribable foul odor that forced me to grimace. Even the local medieval people found it hard to bear.

I covered my nose and mouth with my sleeve, shaking my head in disbelief. It was truly otherworldly. I was fortunate to be a neat noble of a medieval fantasy world. I hurried to find the local guide, fearing the smell would cling to me if I stayed any longer.

Fortunately, the news of my arrival had spread, and the jailer prepared by Sir Overt approached, covering his mouth with the hem of his shirt.

“Your Highness, it’s an honor to meet you. Just in time, a man has confessed to taking bribes.”

“Is that so?”

“Sir Overt is over there. I will guide you to him.”

The jailer explained what this place was all about with utmost care. I respected his professionalism and listened attentively to his explanation…

Modern prisons vary greatly in how they care for the rights of criminals. How much more so for a prison in a world similar to the medieval era? I looked through the bars at the crowded people and clicked my tongue.

“There’s a new reason to end this quickly. Jailer, I’ve enjoyed your story. But we must hasten our steps. There might be innocents among them.”

“Indeed…! I understand, I will guide you to Sir Overt as quickly as possible!”

A single word of praise was desperately desired in this profession, it seems. The guard’s face noticeably brightened as he shrugged his shoulders and strode briskly down the cold prison corridor. At the end, what appeared was not bars but a heavy iron door, seemingly forged from a single piece of metal.

With his forearms, veined and flushed, the guard swung open the iron door, grinning broadly.

“Sir Obert, the prince is here!”

It must have been a torture chamber, given the room I entered. As soon as I stepped inside, an unpleasant odor filled the air. It was a sticky atmosphere, a mix of blood, decay, and the stench of death.

Anyone with a weak stomach would have vomited immediately. But Sir Obert, unfazed, looked at me with a composed expression and bowed respectfully.

“The weak-willed confess quickly.”

“It was me, I did it…! Please, I beg you!!!”

The man tied to the chair had a slightly peeled scalp. He was the servant who, according to Edwina, wanted to buy a hair growth potion from the alchemist. Tears and snot streamed down his face as he screamed.

Indeed, as weak-willed as they say. There were no signs of torture yet—no crushed fingernails, no needles under the nails, nor had he been submerged in water until he was gasping for breath.

Just as we were about to begin, he confessed to his crimes. I looked at this pitiful man and clicked my tongue.

“You know you’re innocent, and yet you dare to confess falsely?”

“?”

The fear and resignation vanished from the face of the man who intended to buy the hair potion. Instead, bewilderment and questions filled his expression. It seemed Edwina, who stood by, felt the same.

“Your Highness, how did you know this man was innocent?”

“Well.”

I locked eyes with Sir Obert, the intelligence officer. Sir Obert nodded, indicating it was okay to speak. Only then did my hesitant mouth continue.

“We knew because we had planted the gold coins in their luggage.”

There were spies among the servants. To identify each one would mean missing the opportunity.

– Extreme measures are for times like these.