Episode 12: Pocket Money
When the auction ended, it took quite a while to settle the accounts.
They painstakingly weighed and counted every single gold and silver coin, ensuring nothing went missing. After matching the totals and sealing the coins in crates, Perseta used magic to secure them in the vault. Only then was the accounting fully complete.
For that tense period, the entire barony stood watch in shifts to guard against any potential theft or mischief with their hard-earned money.
“Eight hundred and forty thousand denars!!!”
Finally, when it was all done, Baron Plian Verite unleashed the joy he’d been holding in.
It was an enormous sum: every item sold for two to six times the expected amount – sometimes even ten times as much, like the fairy grapes, whose price soared from an opening bid of four thousand denars to twenty thousand.
They had more than enough to pay off the family’s debts and still had plenty left over.
Eight hundred and forty thousand denars was 8,400 gold coins of the kingdom (ten silver coins per gold, or forty-two-hundred bars of gold if counted that way) – in weight, about 420 kilograms of gold. It was seven years of income in their best times, or fourteen years of income by the lean standard of recent years.
All from a single harvest.
“My son, it’s all thanks to you. Our house will prosper again. If we use this wisely, we might even handle that issue with Viscount Felix.”
“Hm? Is there some problem with Viscount Felix?”
“Ah, nothing you need to worry about, my son. I’m just proud of you, that’s all.”
With a meaningful smile, Baron Plian pulled Perseta into a tight hug. He still found it hard to believe this miracle was real.
During the thirty years Perseta had been gone, Plian had often felt only worry and regret.
When Bardente, said to be the world’s greatest mage, took Perseta as a disciple at the age of five, Plian had felt both excitement and anxiety. How could he refuse Bardente’s wish for a closed-door apprenticeship? But the boy was just five years old! A child who should have been in his mother’s arms all day.
Days turned to years. Ten years later, Zwart was five, yet Perseta still hadn’t emerged. Six more years passed, Illianne was born—still no sign of him. Thirty years in total. By then, many had begun mocking Perseta as a “slow-witted fool,” and Plian had grown bitter at the world.
Yet now, looking at the results, he realized those thirty years were not wasted.
With magic, Perseta had performed a miracle at the Fairy Farm, subdued the formidable mage Salinelle, and dazzled hardened merchants with his erudition. Even if he concealed his real power, his knowledge alone would keep anyone from underestimating him—and indeed, might draw people from across the continent seeking his wisdom.
As a father, earning money paled in comparison to knowing his son’s abilities were recognized.
“Truly… you’ve done so much, Perseta…”
Wrapped in his father’s arms, Perseta awkwardly placed his hands on Plian’s back.
He recalled the history, philosophy, and politics Bardente had taught him, and realized:
So this is why history and politics have always centered on blood ties.
During his lessons, he could never fathom why people valued family bonds so much. He’d thought, “If they’d abandon family sentiment, wouldn’t everything run more rationally and efficiently?”
Now, feeling his family’s love, he understood. People were not driven solely by logic. This may be irrational, but it was also beautiful—and he liked it.
He felt a surge of happiness at this new realization.
He might not learn much about magic from this world, but there were still many other lessons to discover.
Baron Plian then asked him:
“So, how skilled are you, exactly? I can’t even guess what you’ve learned.”
After thinking a moment, Perseta answered honestly:
“Well… I surpassed Almagest at fifteen.”
“Wha…? Hahaha! Yes, that’s my genius son! Hahaha!”
Baron Plian, not truly grasping, assumed his son was just boastful.
Before long, the day came to repay the family’s debts.
The Verite Barony owed a staggering 150,000 denars. Given their annual income of around 60,000 denars over the past five years—and expenses of about 70,000, always leaving a deficit—repaying had seemed impossible.
They had tried to cut costs, living almost below a noble’s dignity. But the domain was in the remote eastern borderlands, near the monster-haunted “Kala Mountains,” which demanded constant defense spending. That alone soaked up a huge chunk of the budget, leaving the barony chronically short of funds. They could scarcely afford more loans unless they pledged the entire estate as collateral.
Yet somehow, they had borrowed an additional 100,000 on top of the original 50,000, at a low interest rate, without putting the domain up as security. It funded the Fairy Realm Resonance Circle and kept the territory afloat.
Today, the lender was coming to settle the debt.
Baron Plian was unusually excited, telling Perseta all about the man:
“Son, the merchant Glaube and I have been close friends since we were children. Whenever I was in trouble, he helped me selflessly. Although he’s a commoner, he is like a brother to me. Treat him as you would an uncle.”
“Yes, Father.”
So though Glaube was technically a creditor, Plian was thrilled to see him.
Watching his father’s anticipation, Perseta grew curious about this Glaube.
When Glaube finally arrived at the baron’s castle, Perseta could guess why his father was so fond of him.
Ah… so that’s what a genuine good impression looks like.
He looked different from the masquerading smiles of the merchants at the auction. His face was open, natural, yet his eyes shone with intelligence, and his words were poised and measured.
“My lord, I’m delighted to see you under such fortunate circumstances.”
“Come now, must you still call me ‘my lord’? Just call me ‘Plian’ as before.”
“When someone is dear to you, treating them respectfully is key to a lasting bond. I wish to remain at your side for a long time.”
“Hah… You never change.”
Perseta found it remarkable: while Glaube maintained the proper courtesies of speaking to a noble, he still managed to convey warm familiarity in his gaze and handshake.
It struck Perseta like a revelation: people could communicate a world of unspoken sentiment through body language and subtle gestures.
After greeting Baron Plian warmly, Glaube turned the topic:
“I heard your domain hosted a grand auction. I was tempted to attend, but I had unfinished business elsewhere. I’ve heard it was a roaring success. Congratulations!”
Plian gave a meaningful smile:
“I’ve prepared a little something for you. Perseta!”
“Yes, Father.”
At Perseta’s gesture, the cloth covering a wagon was whisked away by magic.
“Oh… what is this?”
Glaube’s eyes went wide, clearly surprised.
“A special set of goods reserved for you: extreme-grade produce in the first wagon. I know you’ll use it well.”
“Use it well? My lord, I could just sell it to double my profit—maybe triple if used as a high-level gift. Everyone’s talking about Verite Barony’s fairy crops right now.”
“Hahaha, hearing that makes me glad. And in the second wagon, you have top-grade fairy grapes, among the most popular items from the auction. Processing them into wine should bring you a far higher return than selling them fresh.”
“Ah… Yes, I heard the rumor that they tie in with Amorix, the lustful demon. Truly a precious commodity…”
Stunned, Glaube kept looking back and forth between the wagons and Baron Plian, unsure what to say, until he finally spoke quietly:
“But… you withheld these valuable items just for me? I feel a bit guilty.”
“We’re friends, aren’t we? Of course, I must charge you. It’s all yours for 70,000 denars—and not a coin less!”
From the auction, those wagons had sold for just over 100,000 in total, yet Plian demanded only 70,000. He feigned a gruff face, as though being some callous merchant.
Glaube understood full well and saw the sincerity behind it.
When Baron Plian produced 80,000 denars to repay the barony’s debt—70,000 for the goods plus 10,000 for the rest—eight thousand gold coins (eight thousand “nips” of the kingdom’s currency), Glaube opened the chest of gold coins right there.
“Ha, yes, even among friends, the math must be clear. Go ahead and count them, if you like. I may have slipped out a coin or two.”
Plian jested, but Glaube shook his head:
“I’m not counting.”
“Then…?”
Glancing inside, Glaube saw it contained four boxes of gold, each with 20,000 denars in coin. He nodded.
“Four crates with 20,000 each, correct?”
“Right.”
“Then…”
He hefted two of the chests at once. Each weighed about 20kg in gold—40kg total—and he carried them without flinching. A slender build but strong from years as a traveling merchant.
“The baron gave me a 30,000 discount, and I’m adding 10,000 of my own. So I’m offering these two crates—40,000 denars total—to Young Master Perseta as a bribe.”
“Huh?”
Perseta stared wide-eyed at the crates thrust toward him.
Glaube met his gaze with a playful smile.
“Well? My arms are going numb.”
Hurriedly, Perseta took the boxes. He was strong for a scholar, but still almost staggered under the weight of more than 40kg of gold.
Glaube watched, amused.
Meanwhile, Baron Plian barked:
“What’s the meaning of this, Glaube? I showed you goodwill, and you just give it back?”
“Give it back? My lord, this was your money. I accepted it and chose to hand it over as a bribe to Young Master Perseta.”
“A bribe?”
“Yes, indeed. I do hear rumors. He’s no ordinary mage. But not many people know that yet, so this is the perfect time to secure his favor. I’m putting down a deposit on future goodwill.”
He gave Perseta a mock-sly grin.
“I look forward to your cooperation, young master.”
“Uh, um… sir…”
Unsure what to do, Perseta awkwardly clung to the boxes, while Glaube chuckled.
“I say it in jest, but I also mean it. You’ll do great things, Master Perseta. Your family earned a huge fortune, but that belongs to the barony— not to you personally. Great endeavors require personal funds. Take this, use it as you wish, and if things go well down the road, just remember me.”
Having explained, Glaube left Plian no room to protest. Perseta just stood there, laden with gold, looking helpless.
“Perseta.”
“Yes, Father… I didn’t plan on accepting, I just—these crates are heavy, so—”
“Call him uncle and say thank you.”
“Huh?”
“Hurry.”
“Ah… yes. Thank you, Uncle Glaube.”
“Haha, uncle? I don’t deserve such an honor!”
Perseta bowed, and Glaube bowed even lower in return.
This was the first time in Perseta’s life that he’d ever received pocket money.
Leave a Reply