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Chapter 48
A Bargain Beneath the Crown
Back at the grand castle of Valencrest, the night had grown peaceful once more. The underground battle felt like a fading dream, and now the great hall welcomed everyone with its familiar warmth.
Golden fires crackled gently in the wide stone hearth, their dancing flames painting soft light across polished walls and long banners that proudly showed the emerald crest of House Valencrest—a proud tree with roots deep in the earth and branches reaching for the sky.
Servants moved quietly through the room, their footsteps soft on the marble floor as they cleared away the remains of the interrupted birthday feast. Plates of half-eaten roasted meats and sweet fruits were carried off with gentle smiles, while knights in shining armor stood watch near the tall wooden doors, their hands resting easy on their swords.
Yet even in this calm, a gentle tension hung in the air like the soft mist before a summer rain. Everyone could feel it—the weight of secrets and choices yet to come.
Duke Armand sat once more at the head of the long oak table, his fingers folded together in quiet thought. His silver hair caught the firelight like threads of moonlight, and his wise eyes, full of years of ruling with kindness and strength, studied the young man sitting across from him.
Alex looked steady and calm, but the faint golden glow still lingered around his fingertips, a reminder of the miracle that had saved them all.
For a long moment, the duke said nothing. The only sounds were the soft pop and crackle of the logs in the hearth and the distant hoot of an owl outside the high windows.
Then he leaned forward slightly, his voice calm but serious, like a grandfather sharing stories by the fireside.
"Tell me, Alex," he said slowly.
"What exactly are you planning?"
Alex met his gaze without flinching. The warm firelight made his eyes shine with quiet purpose. He glanced around the room, taking in the empty chairs and the watchful knights.
"Hmm… well then," he said softly, almost like a friend inviting another to share a secret, "let's have a personal talk, Grandfather. Just us."
Duke Armand raised a single eyebrow, but a small, knowing smile touched his lips.
He turned his head toward the others still waiting nearby.
"Everyone," he called in a steady voice that carried through the hall like a kind command, "leave us for a while. Enjoy the night air. We will join you soon."
Cedric looked a little puzzled, his sharp eyes narrowing for just a second, but he nodded with respect.
"As you wish, Father," he said, giving Alex one last curious glance before walking out.
Max gave his friend a quick, questioning look full of brotherly worry, then followed with a shrug and a grin.
Leon and Lyria slipped away together, whispering softly to each other like two leaves dancing in the breeze.
The servants and guards bowed and left without a word, their footsteps fading down the long corridor.
Within moments, the massive carved doors swung shut with a gentle thud.
The great hall felt bigger now, warmer, like a private corner of the world meant only for family and truth.
Only the two of them remained—grandfather and grandson, bound by blood, trust, and the echoes of tonight's battle.
Duke Armand folded his hands again on the table, his emerald ring catching the firelight.
"Now," he said simply, his eyes steady and open.
"Speak freely, my boy."
Alex leaned back slightly in his tall wooden chair, the soft cushions cradling him like an old friend. He took a slow breath, feeling the golden light of the Apostle still humming warmly inside his chest.
"Grandfather," he began calmly, "I can't tell you the whole truth right now. Some things are too big, too strange even for me to explain fully. But I can tell you this."
He paused, letting the words settle like falling snow.
"This world is in grave danger."
Silence filled the hall, deep and thoughtful.
The fire popped softly, sending a shower of golden sparks upward.
"And very soon," Alex said quietly, his voice steady as a hero from the old tales, "a massive famine is going to strike the empire. Fields will wither. Rivers of grain will run dry. People will go hungry if we do nothing."
Duke Armand froze in his seat.
For a moment, the old man simply stared, his wise face full of surprise and worry. The firelight danced across his features, making him look both strong and suddenly fragile.
"…What?"
His voice came out softer than before, almost a whisper.
"How do you know something like that, Alex? You are just a boy who woke from a long sleep. How could you see a shadow so far ahead?"
Alex slowly raised his hand toward the ceiling.
Without a word, golden light suddenly filled the room.
It spread like warm sunlight pouring through a stained-glass window in a peaceful temple, bathing the stone walls and marble floor in a gentle yellow glow.
The air felt lighter, sweeter, as if the very Goddess herself had stepped in for a moment to listen.
Tiny sparks of light floated around them like friendly fireflies on a summer evening.
Duke Armand's eyes widened in pure wonder.
His breath caught, and he leaned forward, drawn by the beauty of it.
Alex spoke calmly, his voice full of quiet truth.
"I activated my divine power. I am the Apostle of the Light Goddess."
The room glowed softly around him, wrapping him in a halo of kindness and strength.
"A few years ago, when I was in that long coma, that was when she contacted me. She showed me visions of what could come—the darkness hiding in the shadows, the hunger waiting to strike. She chose me to help guide this world toward light."
A faint, cheerful chime echoed only in Alex's mind.
DING!
SC Earned
+500
Alex nearly smiled, but he kept his face steady.
In his thoughts, the system window popped up with its usual blue glow.
SYSTEM MESSAGE
Host…
The Goddess of Light is currently expressing dissatisfaction.
Alex blinked inside his mind.
"…What?"
The system continued in its dry, almost teasing tone.
Host, the Goddess is asking how you dare use her holy name as a cheap excuse for your clever plans. She would like to remind you she is a divine being of pure radiance, not a convenient storytelling prop for your little tales.
Alex nearly coughed out loud.
He kept his expression calm for the duke, but inside he thought,
"…Hey. Relax a little."
The system went on coldly.
Host, she also requests that if you continue spreading false stories about using her Apostle name in such a playful way, she may personally descend and smite you with a gentle but firm reminder.
Alex rubbed his forehead in his mind.
"…She wouldn't actually do that, right?"
Probability: 23%.
"…That's not comforting at all," he thought back with a mental sigh.
Meanwhile, Duke Armand was still staring at him in quiet shock, the golden light reflecting in his eyes like stars.
"You… are the Apostle of Light?" he asked, voice full of awe and a touch of belief.
Alex nodded calmly, the glow around him softening like a loving embrace.
"Yes, Grandfather. And that is why I know the famine is coming. But we can stop it together."
The duke slowly leaned back in his chair, rubbing his beard thoughtfully with one hand.
The golden light faded gently, leaving the hall feeling warmer and closer than before.
"That would explain… many things," he murmured.
"The way you fought, the power you showed, the hope you brought tonight. Continue, my boy. I am listening with an open heart."
Alex leaned forward slightly, his eyes bright with the fire of a dreamer who wanted to build something good.
"So as I was saying, I want you to stop all trade with every merchant guild in the empire…"
They are not kind, Grandfather. They buy your wheat and fruits for almost nothing, then sell them for high prices to the hungry folk in other lands. That is how they keep control, squeezing the life from the fields and the tables."
Duke Armand sighed softly, the sound heavy but understanding.
"You already know how corrupt some of them can be," he said.
He spread his hands a little, palms up like a man showing the weight he carried.
"My region grows the best crops under the sun—golden wheat that feeds kingdoms, sweet fruits that bring smiles, strong barley for bread and ale. But we cannot pull mana stones from the earth. We cannot forge the glowing tools of magic that keep our homes safe. For many things we need to survive and thrive, we must trade. And that means accepting their ways, even when they sting."
The fire in the hearth crackled softly as he spoke, casting shifting shadows across the walls like ancient spirits listening to their conversation.
Alex smiled faintly, gentle and sure.
"That was the past, Grandfather. Things can change now, like the turning of a new season after a long winter."
The duke raised an eyebrow, curiosity flickering in his wise eyes.
"Oh?"
Alex leaned closer across the long oak table, the firelight dancing across his face.
His voice dropped to a warm whisper full of clever hope.
"Say this to everyone: After the battle tonight, the cursed enemy left behind a final spell—a corruption curse on the farmland. The wheat fields, the grain fields, all of them touched by shadow. For one full year, Valencrest will not send any food outside our borders. The curse must fade naturally, with time and care."
Duke Armand frowned, his brow creasing like old leather shaped by years of responsibility.
"You want me to lie?"
Alex shook his head quickly, eyes honest and steady.
"Not exactly. The battle did leave darkness behind, and the land will need healing. Just say it that way. Every region in the empire has at least one year of emergency rations stored in their cellars and granaries—enough bread, dried meats, and fruits to keep families safe. They will survive the wait. But the merchant guilds?"
He paused for a moment, the flames reflecting in his eyes.
"They will panic."
"Their wagons will sit empty. Their greedy hands will find nothing to squeeze. And that will open the door for something better."
Silence filled the room again, warm and thoughtful.
The fire crackled like it was agreeing with the plan.
Duke Armand slowly leaned back, letting out a long, deep sigh.
"Hush…"
He rubbed his temples with a tired but fond laugh.
"If this were anyone else asking me to shake the foundations of trade across the empire, I would refuse right away. But you saved my family tonight. You saved my duchy with light from the Goddess herself. You stood when others might have run."
He closed his eyes briefly, as if sending a quiet prayer to the stars beyond the castle walls.
Then he opened them again, strong and decided.
"…So I will accept your condition. We will speak the words about the curse and hold our harvests close for one year."
He looked at Alex seriously, but with love in his gaze.
"But remember this, my boy. If any harm comes to my family because of this bold path—if even one child goes hungry or one village suffers—you will face the consequences. I am still the duke, and I protect what is mine."
Alex nodded calmly, his heart full of quiet promise.
"Don't worry, Grandpa. Something like that will never happen. I will make sure the light guides us safely through it all."
Duke Armand exhaled slowly, the tension melting from his shoulders like morning dew under the sun.
"…Very well."
He stood up from the chair with a stretch, his old bones creaking softly like ancient wood bending in the wind.
"Well then. Let us go end the birthday banquet properly. The guests are waiting, and the night is still young for stories and songs."
He rubbed his temples with a tired but warm laugh.
"At my age, I should be resting by the fire with a good book. But instead I must start a gentle trade war with the entire empire. All because of my troublesome, wonderful grandchild."
Alex laughed softly, the sound bright and full of joy.
"Sorry about that, Grandfather. But thank you. Truly."
As the duke walked toward the tall doors, his steps steady and regal, Alex remained seated for just a moment longer.
A slow, satisfied smile spread across his face like the first light of dawn breaking over distant mountains.
Finally.
The deal is done.
The pieces are moving, and the empire will feel the change soon.
He leaned back comfortably in the chair, staring into the dancing flames.
"Now…" he whispered to himself, eyes sparkling with excitement,
"it's finally time to show this world the power of a reincarnated player who carries the light of a Goddess."
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Far away, deep inside the dark Sylvian Forest…
Ancient trees rose toward the hidden sky like silent giants, their thick twisted branches blocking most of the moonlight and casting long, mysterious shadows across the mossy ground.
Soft mist drifted through the forest floor like ghostly rivers winding between roots and ferns, carrying the sweet scent of night-blooming flowers and the faint whisper of hidden magic.
The forest itself seemed alive—breathing slowly, listening carefully.
In the middle of a secret clearing, lit only by a few flickering green torches, stood several figures cloaked in dark robes.
Their hoods hid their faces, but their voices trembled with worry, like leaves in a coming storm.
"What are we going to do now?" one whispered, voice cracking with fear.
Another looked toward the broken altar in the center of the clearing—a circle of black stone now cracked and cold, its once-glowing runes dull and lifeless.
"…Only a Holy Apostle can purify this curse," he said softly, the words heavy as falling stones.
Silence fell among them, thick and heavy.
The wind rustled the leaves overhead, as if the forest itself was listening and holding its breath.
Then one figure slowly lifted their head, eyes gleaming with desperate hope beneath the hood.
"…Then we must find him. The Apostle of Light. He is the only one who can wash away this shadow before it spreads."
The forest wind howled gently through the trees, carrying their words far into the night.
And somewhere, beyond the mountains and the mist, the Apostle of Light had just begun moving the pieces of the world—quietly, kindly, and with a heart full of light.
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